Gramsci doesn't really understand why it's so dreary outside: I've explained to him that this is typical for LA in June - hence the expression - but he seems unconvinced. On the other hand, he's happy enough that there are plenty of squirrels frisking around, whatever the low cloud coverage.
It's remarkable to all of us that this now thirteen-month old cat is growing up into a well-behaved - most of the time - young feline, as opposed to a wannabe ocelot who was all teeth and claws. He and Moth even hang out together in a perfectly amicable way, mostly.
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